


Turning Point

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: salt_burn_porn, Established Relationship, M/M, Painplay, Pre-Canon, Spanking, Teenage Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little after Sam turned sixteen, he started beating Dean in their wrestling matches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Переломный момент](https://archiveofourown.org/works/536778) by [Фиолетовая Лиса (purple_fox)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_fox/pseuds/%D0%A4%D0%B8%D0%BE%D0%BB%D0%B5%D1%82%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B0%D1%8F%20%D0%9B%D0%B8%D1%81%D0%B0)



> Written for [salt_burn_porn](http://salt-burn-porn.livejournal.com/); and the prompt _spankings._ A thousand thanks to [riyku](riyku.livejournal.com) for late-night beta and suggestions! Warning for use of a character under 18.

Five times out of ten, play-fighting with Dean turned into actual fighting. The other five times, it turned into sex. It all depended on whether Dad was within fifty miles of their insane wrestling on the bed, or on the floor, or on the porch, or in the grass. If Dad was around, Dean's frustration was painfully real, and Sam gave as good as he got. They'd come back in from a bout covered in grass stains and fresh bruises, new cuts on their lips and scrapes on the heels of their hands. Sam had to get stitches once in his eyebrow when Dean hit him too hard and the metal button on the cuff of his jacket snagged. Dad wasn't too happy about that one.

If he wasn't around, they moved much faster from innocent, fraternal wrestling into forbidden territory. Sam would hook a leg around Dean's knees and Dean would pin him to the ground.

Everything Sam knew about fucking he'd learned from Dean— first in words, when he'd asked about girls at school, and later in action, when he'd reached for Dean in the middle of the night. He knew that sex with girls was nothing like sex with his brother, and he knew that sex with his brother was not something he should feel so blasé about, but he preferred Dean's physical lessons to his earlier, more halting, descriptive ones.

A little after Sam turned sixteen, he started beating Dean in their wrestling matches. He was going to be taller than his brother, Dad had said, and he was gaining fast. He was also gaining weight, getting stronger, and the first day he pinned Dean they both stopped short, shocked.

"Let me up," Dean grunted, face screwed up in displeasure.

Sam settled his weight more firmly onto Dean's shoulders and hips. His knees were locked in around Dean's ribs and the toes of his sneakers dug into the carpet. This was a funny angle to see his brother: Sam felt tall, and for a moment his brother looked helpless, all pissed off and sweaty. He grinned.

"Come on, you little shit," Dean said, struggling, hands grasping at Sam's sides, "I said, let me up!"

"Oh," Sam said, "I heard you. I'm just not doing it."

"Fucker." Dean's hips bucked sharply, rocking Sam up into the air, but he kept his grip tight and came back down again, square onto Dean's groin. Dean huffed out a curse.

"Say uncle."

Dean snorted. His face was getting red with the effort it took to push against Sam's restraining weight. "No way in hell, pipsqueak."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"No way in hell!"

"After that."

"Pipsqueak," Dean said, showing teeth. "Doesn't matter how big you get, Sammy-boy, you'll always be the pipsqueak."

"You're just askin' for trouble," Sam said. He could get used to this, sitting on his big brother's hips and winning the game for once.

It didn't last. In the second Sam was distracted by his victory Dean had flipped him, flattening him to the carpet. He escaped the grip of Sam's thighs and wrestled Sam efficiently onto his stomach, mashing his face into the rug with a hand on the back of his neck and pinning him with one knee in the back of Sam's.

"How's that?" Dean asked, while Sam huffed nasty carpet and cursed his own weakness. "You like that?"

"Fuck you," Sam said, his words muffled. The carpet smelled like cat pee and old mold. He struggled hard, writhing, and then Dean's hand came down— _hard_ — right on the center of his left butt cheek.

Sam shrieked. It wasn't manly at all, but neither was getting spanked on the floor by your twenty-year-old brother. He scrabbled, trying to push up, but Dean's grip on his neck had him immobile.

Dean was laughing, delighted and surprised. He shifted his weight, sliding his shin into the crook of Sam's knee, and resettled himself almost on top of Sam. His other knee was against Sam's hip, and Sam could feel the heat of his thigh against his ass. He squirmed, suddenly aware that since Dad was eighty miles away on a job, and Dean was nothing if not persistent, he was almost guaranteed to be coming in his pants in less then ten minutes.

Dean smacked him again. The pain radiated up Sam's spine and down his left leg, but the heat of the slap settled between his thighs, fattening his cock in his boxers. He pushed harder against Dean's grip, suddenly embarrassed.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean cooed. "Your big brother got the best of you?"

Sam shivered, hips twitching against the floor. He was wired wrong; that had to be it.

The third smack didn't surprise Sam at all. Dean squeezed his cheek, like he was pressing the shape of his hand into Sam's ass. Sam moaned, despite himself, and Dean pressed even harder.

"You _do_ like it," Dean said. The heel of his hand worked its way between Sam's cheeks, pushing the denim of his jeans against his skin. "Guess I'd better teach you a lesson about getting too cocky." He groped Sam deliberately between the legs, feeling the shape of his cock trapped against his thigh, and laughed softly. Sam spasmed, groaning, and tried once more to lift his head. This time, Dean let him.

"Fuck off," Sam spat, pushing up on his hands. Dean's weight on his leg kept his lower half down, though, and his hips ground into the carpet. His cock was already throbbing, and his ass stung like hell.

Dean slapped him again and he jerked, pain and pleasure shooting through him. Seriously, he was fucked up. 

"Ah ah," Dean chided, giving him half a dozen quick slaps in a row. "You need to learn some respect."

Sam twisted, trying to get his leg out from under Dean's. He didn't really want it to stop, and he knew the second he stopped fighting and just told Dean to quit it, Dean would be off of him. So he struggled, and Dean stayed where he was, and when Sam tried to turn over he just slapped him again. Dean shifted his weight away from Sam's leg, allowing Sam to pull himself to his knees, and grabbed Sam around the middle like he was going to turn him upside-down. He unbuttoned Sam's jeans with that hand and yanked them down his ass with the other.

"Oh, god," Dean breathed, and the sound of it sent a shiver up Sam's spine. "Your butt is so red, dude."

"Whose fault is that?" Sam asked, breathless, and Dean sank his teeth briefly into the fleshy part of his side.

"Mine," he growled, and spanked Sam again. Sam's whole body twitched, trying to get away, but he pushed back against the carpet into Dean's hand.

"Fuck yeah."

"You are so fucking kinky," Dean muttered, punctuating his words with sharp little slaps.

"You're the one—!" Sam started, and broke off with a cry as Dean began to hit him hard and fast, _whap whap whap whap_ , presumably to shut him up. His cock was rigid in his pants, twitching with every slap, and Sam could feel a wet spot forming in his boxers. He tried to spread his legs but his jeans kept him trapped.

Dean's cock was a hard line at Sam's hip, and he was rubbing it against Sam as he smoothed his palm over Sam's aching cheeks. Sam trembled, afraid of the pain and insanely turned on by it. He hung his head, hiding his face in the messy fall of his hair, and Dean kissed the middle of his spine.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Don't stop."

"Shit." Dean slapped him twice: reward. "You make me fucking crazy, I want you so bad."

"So fuck me," Sam said.

"Huh uh." Another slap. "Gotta finish this."

 _Jesus._ Dean wanted to make him come from it. Sam wasn't even sure it was possible. He'd never been spanked like this. Sure, he'd had his share of whuppings from Dad, when he was younger and misbehaving, but this was a whole new ballgame. Dean knew exactly how hard to hit him to keep him from getting seriously hurt; Sam could tell he was pausing between each bout of spankings to gauge Sam's reaction. The knowledge of it made his head spin. Dean was taking care of him even as he hurt him, and Sam trusted him with every cell in his body.

Dean let him go suddenly and staggered to his feet. Sam looked up at him, shocked and dismayed, but Dean only sank back onto the bed a few feet away and said, "C'mere."

Sam was there in a second, crawling into Dean's lap with his pants still down and his whole body humming for touch. Dean curled one arm around Sam's neck and shoulders, holding him up to press a kiss into his hair, and hitched Sam up a little higher with the other. Sam braced himself on Dean's knees to keep himself up, and Dean started to spank him again, slowly, one slap after another making Sam jerk in his arms. He started to alternate, a few quick slaps followed by a slow rub of his hand, and then a series of randomly spaced slaps that made Sam spasm in surprise when they landed. Sam was panting, unable to catch his breath. His ass felt like it was on fire. Dean slapped him once and pushed the arc of his hand between thumb and forefinger into Sam's crack, rubbing against his asshole, and Sam actually sobbed.

"Shit, Sammy," Dean rasped against his ear, "you gonna let me fuck this sore ass later?"

Sam nodded frantically. He ached, and he knew that Dean's hips slapping roughly against his ass would only make it worse; he couldn't think of anything better.

"You gonna come?" Dean asked.

"Touch me," Sam begged. He couldn't get off _just_ from being spanked— and god, what a world that would be— but he was pretty fucking close. His cock was dripping, sliding in his boxers, and the friction of Dean's hard thigh against it was driving him insane. 

Dean let go of his shoulders and shoved his hand down into Sam's pants. He started to spank Sam again, hard and fast, every slap sending Sam's hips punching forward, into the grip of his hand. It wasn't much more than giving Sam bare skin to rub on, but his fingers wiggled against Sam's balls and Sam's cock head was rubbing against his wrist, and Sam groaned desperately. He was so close— fuck, he needed it so bad.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged, squeezing Sam's ass cheek and making him cry out. "Come on, babe."

"Fuck," Sam said.

"Only if you're good," Dean said, pushing his cock up against Sam's bare belly where his shirt had ridden up. Sam's mouth watered. Dean's cock was so big, so thick and hard, and he could practically feel it in his mouth, opening his throat up. Dean's fingers pressed against his asshole, and Sam arched his hips up into the pressure.

Dean started to spank him again, lingering between each slap to work his fingers up and down Sam's crack, and the other hand in Sam's pants started to move again, up and down the spine of Sam's dick. Sam could feel his balls drawing up, his whole body tensing, and he pushed back into Dean's hand. He was so fucking close he could taste it, and his cock was swelling, and his ass hurt so bad, and Dean just wasn't going to stop, was just going to spank him until he came.

Sam squirmed frantically, desperate to get off, and Dean slapped him just once more as he started to come, spurting hard in his pants, up Dean's wrist. Sam shouted, body spasming with the pulses of his orgasm.

Before he was even done, Dean shoved him roughly off his lap onto the bed and was opening his pants. He pulled out his cock, huge and hard and so stiff, and started to jack himself off over Sam's bare ass. Sam heard him grunt and felt the hot splash of Dean's come on his skin. Dean pressed his open palm against Sam's burning cheek, pushing down hard and making Sam jerk again in pain. He was rubbing the come in, Sam realized, smearing the wet semen across Sam's skin like it might ease the sting.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, and Sam slumped face-first into the bed. "I couldn't wait."

"Ngh," Sam said. He hurt all over now, from the wrestling, from the spanking. His dick felt chafed in his boxers, and his shoulders ached from pushing against Dean's grip so hard.

"You good?" Dean asked, his voice soft. He pulled Sam's boxers up over his naked butt and settled the elastic into place carefully.

Sam lifted his head. "I'm gonna get even," he said. "You watch out."

Dean grinned. "As if you could ever beat me for real."


End file.
